


counting blessings

by v3ilfire



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-03-12 01:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3338402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/pseuds/v3ilfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short, fluffy, self-indulgent drabbles about the Warden and Alistair. An endless tornado of fluff and gross, undeniable affection. Updated whenever author decides to procrastinate on homework.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baby's first storm

They had been unlucky in most pursuits, but at least they had managed to avoid storms. 

Nevira had been packing up her bedroll when Zevran made some off-handed comment about the air being too still, the birds far too quiet.   
“It may just storm,” Wynne sighed. “We should find cover.”   
Nev straightened, her bedroll tucked into her arms, and stared off in the direction of the lake they had passed not even ten minutes before.

Alistair caught her sneaking off as the rest of the camp began to prepare for rain. He followed her at a distance all the way to the lakeside, where they had a clear view of the darkening horizon. Nev sat at the shore, her shoes next to her, toes just touching the water and arms wrapped about her knees. Her ears twitched just slightly at the rumble approaching from the distance. 

“You should probably come back to camp. This one looks nasty.”   
Nev cocked her head over her shoulder, but quickly turned back to the horizon.   
“I’ll be just a minute.” 

She was surprised to find Alistair taking his boots off as well, and joining her at the lakeshore.   
“I’m not interrupting your alone time, am I?”   
“No, no, I just… Do you think there will be lightning?”  
Alistair’s brows lifted and he laughed. “Of course there’s going to be lightning, isn’t that… isn’t that obvious?” He trailed off at the end of his question, his bemusement turning to surprise when faced with Nev’s slight blush. “Maker, it’s not obvious, is it? Have you never –”   
“Not in the tower,” she whispered. “We used to go up to the top floor and listen to the thunder and watch the flashes, but…”   
“Well, then I guess we have no choice but to wait and watch.” 

She smiled at him for the first time in weeks. The last year had worn her out and hardened her, pressed her mouth into a frown and gave a weight to her eyes. She worried him - barely 20 and thrown right into the depths of Warden-hood to sink or swim. She had been swimming thus far -  _exceptionally_  well - but not without paying the price. The woman was burnt out, exhausted, dragging her too-heavy body up from the ground each morning to face the next tragedy. 

There was another rumble - even closer, that time.   
“What is it like?”  
“Imagine Morrigan as a cloud and then Oghren yelling after her. Like that, but wetter.”   
Nev’s laugh came out silent, breathy, a shadow of what it used to be.   
“Always the wordsmith.” 

They sat in silence after that. Alistair had zoned far out onto the horizon when the next rumble hit, the loudest yet. Nev scoot to him in its wake, effectively huddling her entire body into his.   
“Are you… scared?”  
“No.”  
“You big liar. The darkspawn-slaying, fire-throwing mage is scared of thunder! You just wait ‘till I tell the Archdemon.”   
Despite his teasing, he wrapped an arm about the elf’s shoulders and kissed her temple. She did not get any less tense, not while the clouds seemed to be rolling in faster and faster. 

The sky had grown too dark while they were distracted, and the air became saturated with the smell of incoming rain. 

“Here it comes.”  
The words had barely left Alistair’s mouth when Nevira jumped up, moving another few steps into the water. There was thirty seconds of dead silence before they saw the rain coming - a sheet of it, racing to meet them head-on. 

They were soaked in  _seconds_. 

Nev held her arms out, head thrown back. Alistair rose, his hair pressed flat to his head and clothes clinging. He opened his mouth to suggest returning to camp, but as soon as he stood, he saw her  _smiling,_ unburdened, and he stopped. In fact, he was about to join her when the first flash of lightning hit. 

He felt bad laughing, he really did, but Nev had yelped and lept a solid foot into the air before running back to the nearest tree. The thunder rolled after the flash, louder than ever, and Alistair caught her staring at the sky in complete awe. The rain continued to pound on them both as she left the safety of her cover, padding gently from wet grass to wetter rock and sand, never once taking her eyes off the black clouds. 

She had only made it halfway back to Alistair when the second flash hit, and she booked it promptly back to her safe spot with another scream. 

“We can head back, you know,” he yelled over the rain and the thunder.   
“No!” she yelled back. Third flash, third yell, third roll of the thunder.   
“Are you sure?”

She seemed to be. When she left the tree cover again, she still seemed awed, but breathless and  _alight_. He didn’t understand until lightning struck again and she screamed, but it dissolved straight into laughter. He heard it even over the rolling of the thunder. 

Knowing she only had seconds, Nev powered her way through to the shore, just in time for the next bolt to flare across the sky. She flinched away, but her laughter grew. Alistair watched her with the same wide-eyed look she was giving the clouds, as she grew braver and braver until she could throw her hands up into the air and only just barely flinch each time the sky lit up white. 

Her bun had fallen out in the process and  _Maker_  did her hair get long over the last year, the water-weighed curls draping down to her waist, over her soaked shirt and clinging trousers. She was slender and tiny and covered in mud and free in a way she never looked in her armor. 

Nev was still laughing when he pulled her in to kiss her, their entire beings too wet for their lips to find much purchase. They ended up laughing against each other until Nev lost her balance entirely in the sand and nearly slipped right off her feet. Alistair made an attempt to catch her, but the rain proved too much for their combined weights (though Nev was by far the smaller contributor to the mass). 

Nev was nearly screeching with laughter when Alistair landed on top of her, his palms scraped on the rocks and her entire back covered in sand. And Alistair laughed with her far past the storm being over and done with, into the sunset and the clouds parting and they kissed and whispered to each other on the shore until the sky turned black again. 


	2. shout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt fill for "before the jump"

Alistair had initially thought the Blight was exhausting, but if he’d known how tiring _celebrating_  the end of a Blight would be, he’d have complained a lot less about walking the country end-to-end ten times over. The whole day had felt sort of… surreal. Wherever he cast his eyes, people bowed and called him _highness_  and _majesty_ , they showered him with praise and thanks and congratulations, and Eamon was only by his side to help for about a third of it. 

Though, Eamon’s lack of guidance was a lot less of a loss than Nev’s constant presence. She’d been whisked away early in the morning to talk to messengers from Weisshaupt, to sort out the nitty-gritty of being Warden-Commander. He saw her once after that, during the banquet, but the adoring public whisked her away from the adoring King, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since then. And now he had to walk to his room, by himself. And he’d wake the next morning, by himself. And he’d have to be King. By himself.

Maker, there were so many _titles_  all of a sudden. He was a King, a Hero of the Fifth Blight; Nev was Warden-Commander, the Hero of Ferelden and soon, Arlessa of Amaranthine. They went from Nev and Alistair to a mouthful quite _literally_  overnight. Now they had responsibilities - well, they always had responsibilities, but these were new and large, and with no foreseeable end nearly as cool or dramatic as slaying an Archdemon. He’d have his lands to care for and she’d have the Wardens, and - 

They’d be fighting more battles. By themselves. 

Alistair’s path to his own room broke and instead, he booked it to tower where Nev had requested her chambers be set up. He was so frazzled and out of breath by the time he made it up the stairs that all social conventions or possible consequences of their relationship left his mind completely, and he threw open her door without knocking.   
“I love you,” he yelled into the space, only _afterwards_  realizing that he’d literally just exploded into the room and more than likely scared the living shit out of the poor woman. Unfortunately, it wasn’t his _worst_  attempt at romance.

When there was no response, Alistair’s eyes began darting about the room. They’d only been in the castle a few days, but the space was already so full of books that he wouldn’t have been surprised to have lost Nev among them. No wonder she’d wanted to be in the tower - it was the only space where the ceilings were high enough to accommodate her gigantic bookshelves (not yet full, which was a shock) and their partner in crime, the ladder. The desk she’d moved in there seemed comically small in comparison, covered in stacks of notes and piles scrolls, some bearing the Wardens’ seal and some covered in her precise handwriting. Nev’s staff leaning against the wall was the only truly familiar sight, left to bathe in the golden light from the window behind him (which is also where the elf was sitting, out of sight, trying to guess a reason for this outburst).   
  
“I… love you, too…?” came her confused, delayed answer. Alistair whirled around, ready to flood her with promises of love and loyalty at a more reasonable volume, but found himself struck speechless by the sight of her. Laying on the windowsill in a pool of cushions and sunlight, she held a tome nearly twice the size of her head. At some point, she’d exchanged her parade armor for a simple skirt and tunic and her precise bun for a hasty one that kept losing stray curls. 

With suddenly even more things to say, Alistair was disappointed to find that no words came with which to _say_  them, and even if they had he’d be hard-pressed to put them in proper order. Before he could try to embarrass himself further, however, he realized that the way Nev clamped her lips together to hold back a laugh said enough for the both of them.    
“How crazy do I look right now?” he managed. Finally.  
“Maybe you should sit down,” she said, peeling herself from her perch. He was about to scold himself for disturbing her, but that was before she came over and began undoing the clasps on his armor.  
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”  
“You didn’t startle me.”   
“I didn’t?”   
“I heard you clanging up the stairs,” she admitted, withholding a giggle. Barely. 

Nev’s size made the windowsill seem a lot larger than it actually was. Even sitting upright against the side of it, free of his armor, Alistair couldn’t find enough room to stretch both of his legs in front of him. One stayed bent, propped up on a cushion, and the other dangled down to the floor. Between them, Nev lay curled up, her head on his chest and her book in her hands. With every turn of the page, the titles and commotion seemed farther and farther away, and Alistair found himself at ease again. She hadn’t asked about his outburst yet, which was fine. He was more than happy to lay there in silence with his arms around her, right thumb lazily tracing the contour of her hip. 

Once she finished the section, Nev slotted a crimson ribbon between the pages and let the book flop closed with a loud _thud_  and a rush of that ever-familiar old book smell.   
“So,” she said, nesting her head underneath his chin.  
“So,” he echoed.   
“Did you want to talk about it?”  
“Talk about what? Oh - you mean the time I ran into your room like a rooster with its tail on fire and aggressively yelled about my feelings for you at a wall? Right, well, you see, I was taking a lovely stroll through my new castle and suddenly realized that instead of shouting, ‘Hey, asshole!’ in my general direction, people now call me, ‘Your Majesty.’ And then, of course, came the crippling fear of responsibility and the sudden realization that we’re going to  be spending a _lot_  of time apart and that the best way to let you know that I’m still madly in love with you is to break into your room and scream it.”   
“That sounds valid.” Alistair shook his head. He was lucky she let him live these kinds of things down. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” he said. “Everything’s about to change, and…”  
“And?”  
“… I’m scared, I think.”   
“Me too,” she whispered. There was a scrap of comfort in knowing that at least they _shared_  a terrifying ledge into the unknown. “I know one thing that won’t change, though.”  
“Oh, really?”  
“Mhm. This. It’s been me and you since the beginning. It’ll be me and you until the end, no matter how far apart.” At that, she lifted one of his hands to lay them between both of hers, and he did everything he could to commit that feeling to memory. How smooth her skin was despite all the fighting, her warmth, how her hair smelled of roses and how sure he was that if anyone could make that vast and foolish of a promise and _keep_ it, it would be her.   
“I love you,” he said again, squeezing her hand.   
“It doesn’t count unless you shout it,” she said, incapable of suppressing her laughter that time.   
“Oh, I’ll show you shouting,” he said, and suddenly dipped his head to plant gossamer kisses all along her neck and shoulder, right where she was painfully ticklish. When she tried to squirm away he only gripped her tighter, until there was neither sound nor strength left in her and she collapsed right back against him. 

“I love you,” he said again, and kissed her temple, and her cheek. “I love you.”   
“I love you too,” she said, and reached up to ruffle his hair. “We’ll be alright.” 


	3. woken up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt fill from tumblr!

Alistair woke to the gentle rustling of pages, grinning like a fool before he ever opened his eyes.   
“Is the sun even up? Have you even slept?” he yawned, interrupted by the elf’s hand playfully shoved over his face. “You dare insult my proud visage, madam,” he said in mock offense, just before licking her palm. Nevira tried to hide her giggle with a scoff, but before she could retaliate, his arms were around her and he’d effectively trapped her against him.   
“Maker, Alistair, I lost my place,” she said, twisting in his grip until she could face him, her still-sleepy grin matching his. 

“Do you ever slow down?” The question was mostly rhetorical - she’d somehow managed to procure and fly through more books in the last year than Alistair wagered he’d ever picked up in his life. He didn’t even know that many books on magic had been written, to be honest, but she seemed to find increasingly obscure ones each time.   
“I have to study,” she said, though she did little to resist a peck on the lips.  
“Hm. I did hear the Archdemon doesn’t often give high marks on his test.”  
“Tough examiner, is he?”   
“Mhm. The toughest.” Nevira laughed, interrupted once more by his mouth on hers.   
“We should get up,” she said, but judging by the way he rolled his eyes, Alistair was not so keen on that idea. Not that he ever was. “For a kiss?”   
“I won’t stop you from trying.”

Poor Nev. So gullible, so kind. Little did she know that a kiss was the perfect opportunity for Alistair to trap them both underneath a blanket and press her ever closer. He even threw a leg over both of hers (it’s all it took, really) to really secure the mage into place, none of which she protested with any real vigor. It seemed even the workaholic was susceptible to the magic of early mornings and the comfort of body heat.

“Alistair!” she scolded, _barely_ , her laughter muffled by the crook of his neck. She only managed to wiggle far enough away to be able to look him in the eye. He wouldn’t let her farther. In all honesty Nev didn’t want to go farther, not when he was practically glowing at her.  
“I love you,” he said, barely above a whisper, his voice catching. She kissed him again for that, her own brand of quiet affirmation. “And I love it when you do that.”   
“I love you, too. But we’re getting up in fifteen minutes.”   
“Spoilsport.”   
“You forget, love. We’ve an exam.”


	4. eye of the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> underwater kiss prompt

In Nevira’s experience, elfroot could be broken down into two categories: the first was bluer in tint and a bit more pliant, best used for salves and rubs and the second, slightly more yellow variety was best boiled down and turned into potions. Both were best harvested when the ground was still wet, making the root system (a key ingredient in more potent poultices, contrary to popular belief) easier to extract. **  
**

She had gone out to gather as soon as the rain ceased, despite the clouds still looming dark and grey overhead. She thought she’d have half an hour, forty-five minutes at _best_ , but the sky decided to open back up a mere quarter hour after she’d left camp. Though a head cover would have functioned better, Nevira lifted one arm into the air and cast a shield over her head as soon as the first droplets fell. It was an inconvenience to only have the use of one hand, but she had already decided that it would be better than catching cold in the rain.

Alistair, it seemed, had other priorities. His steps had announced his approach, a brisk jog that slowed to a stop while Nev rose from her crouch and turned to face him. She’d have compared him to a wet puppy, but she’d _seen_ wet puppies, and they looked far less pathetic than a full-grown Warden in half-plate with his hair plastered flat on his forehead, standing in the pouring rain.   
“You know,” he said, “here I thought I was being chivalrous and romantic by coming out here to warn you of the storm, but as per usual, I seem to have made an error in judgement.” He approached as soon as she beckoned him forward with her hand, though he had to hunch a little bit to fit under the reach of her magic.   
“We should find shelter. I can dry you off if I don’t have a barrier to maintain.”   
He smirked. She didn’t like that smirk. “I have a better idea.”  
“Alistair, don’t --”

But he did. She gasped as soon as he pressed her against his soaked body, already only barely focused enough to maintain their cover when he leaned down to kiss her. To Nev’s credit, she tried her very, _very_ best to keep her arm up but he was way too good at breaking her concentration, and before long she was drenched by a sheet of rain. The water made kissing a little more, well, _slippery,_ and gave her the perfect excuse to shove Alistair away and swat at his arm. “I was doing so _well!_ ” she yelled, but he was laughing, and she was laughing, and for two Grey Wardens who were supposed to be carrying the burden of the Blight, they sure felt more like love-struck (and soaked) children.   
“You were, you were! But clearly, and let’s face it, my looks and wit trump your magic, madam.”   
“My magic would have been just fine if your looks and wit weren’t breaking my focus.”  
“You liked it.”  
“I never said I didn’t,” she said, and popped on her tip-toes to kiss his jaw. Not like he needed the reassurance, really - whatever Zevran told him was _certainly_ going to his head - but she didn’t mind providing it anyway. “But you’re helping me finish gathering once this rain stops.”   
“Your wish is my command.”


	5. this is why we fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [i made a little music prompt thing on tumblr](http://v3ilfire.tumblr.com/post/151800952037/oh-look-a-music-prompt-list-bc-its-2004-again)

For about the last half hour, Nevira’s hands were that tingly-numb that fell somewhere close to pain; something she’d have to note in her field journal in regards to magical overexertion. There was still work to do, however, and a little discomfort was little reason to stop working on her last patient for the night. The young man was unconscious, thank the Maker, which made setting his broken arm into a splint far easier and removed the need for any delicacy or explanation when it came time for the arcane portion of the treatment. As much as she normally didn’t mind explaining, it had been a good day and a half since she last slept and having spent much of that time fighting zombies did few favors for her patience, or ability to form coherent sentences.

Once the man was carried away, Nev found herself yawning but without the energy required to get up and make it all the way back uphill to get to the inn. She eyed the hillside path with some distaste, idly wondering if anyone would think her crazy if she just… laid down on the nearest bench and took a quick nap.

Her second yawn was cut short by a gasp when she opened her eyes and Alistair was just kind of… there, crouching down next to her.   
“So, I’ve got a story for you - bit silly, this one, but I think you’ll like it. Last night I woke up from one of those delightful little Archdemon night chats and, when I went to check on the other Grey Warden I know - that’s you - you weren’t in bed. Crazy, right? Now here I am tonight, exhausted and covered in zombie liver and I think to myself, ‘Maker, I cannot wait to go to sleep.’ And I did. And then - get this - your _dog_ wakes me up because _apparently_ elves don’t need to sleep.”

Nev tucked a stray curl behind her ear, unsure if her smile looked more like a grimace or if it just felt like it did. Either way, she felt like a guilty schoolchild for the first time in several months - at least this time she had a better excuse than a particularly interesting dissertation on enchanting beehives to increase output on elfroot farms. “I’m fine, Alistair,” she said.   
“But have you slept?”  
“I’m fi-- I’m fine.” An unconvincing sentiment when interrupted by the third yawn in less than five minutes. Alistair must have taken her condition as a resounding _no_ , because he proceeded to stand and offer his hand to help the sleepy mage to her feet.  
“Come on,” he said. “I think it’s bedtime for Warden Surana.” A fine idea, except for the fact that her legs joined her hands in their unwillingness to move. She could barely even wiggle her toes.  
“You go on without me. I’ll catch up.”   
“... You can’t even walk, can you?”

After some creative rearranging of limbs, Nev found herself draped over Alistair’s back with her arms just sort of dangling about his shoulders. She’d have felt bad that he had to carry her all the way up to the inn if it didn’t take all her concentration just to keep her eyes open. Alistair cleared his throat to break the silence. “Murdock wanted me to thank you, by the way. I think he feels bad about being an asshole about the whole… lady elf mage… thing.”

The cold air helped in keeping her awake, but not enough to get an immediate response out of her, apparently. There was a pause long enough to make Alistair think she’d fallen fast asleep before she answered. “As long as we helped.”   
“You’re… amazing. You know that, right? You never asked for any of this and yet you’re working harder than anyone else to give people ho-- what are you doing?” 

Nev barely managed to keep her hand on his forehead, let alone produce any magic, but whatever she had left, she could use. “You’ve a fever.”   
“A fev -- no, I don’t, I just -- you know what, nevermind. Forget I said anything.”   
“I’m happy we can help. I don’t think I would have taken the Joining if that’s not what the Grey Wardens _did_.”  
“But if you didn’t take the Joining --”  
“I know,” she yawned. “I’m glad I did it. In the Circle you learn so much _theory_  about how magic can make peoples’ lives easier, but now... I’m free to _do_  that. Are you sure you don’t have a fever? I can -”   
“You can sleep. My uh -- the fever will go away by morning. Just... rest.”   
“Thanks, Alistair,” she sighed. Her hand dropped back down to rest over his chest, and, just before she finally succumbed to sleep, she made a note to check on his elevated heartbeat in the morning.


End file.
